


Damned if you do (damned if you don't)

by Uhei



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coachswap AU, F/F, F/M, Featuring Yuuri's anxiety, Implied Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino - Freeform, M/M, Major Character Injury, May contain sports politics, Mention of sleeping pills use, Naturalised athlete Katsuki Yuuri, Sad Katsuki Yuuri, Same age differences as in Canon, Sorry Georgi doesn't exist in this AU, Unreliable Narrator, Viktor has the best intentions really, for plot reasons, which I don't really know much about tbh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9813470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uhei/pseuds/Uhei
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri qualifies for the Grand Prix Final in his second year skating in the senior division, and lands his quad salchow in his short program before falling on it in the free. In another universe, he would have been proud of his performance that earned him a silver medal and even greet his idol Viktor Nikiforov with his head held high.But this is not that universe, and these results are not really worth mention when you are a Japanese skater who has handed over his flag to skate under the Russian Federation.Or: The angsty coachswap AU in which Yakov takes on Yuuri as his student, Yuuri doesn't meet Celestino at the right time and hence never rooms with Phichit in Detroit, and nobody knows where the hell Viktor is. Yuuri certainly didn't know what he signed up for.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay. This is not meant to be a political commentary, I know the topic of naturalized athletes is a touchy topic for some countries but all the baggage that's associate with it in this fic is largely due to Yuuri's unreliable narration blowing some things out of proportion. This is also based loosely on Kawaguchi Yuko's career.
> 
> EDIT: I'm so sorry I rewrote some parts of this chapter, the original had such weird pacing

Like a black wave, nausea lingers behind Yuuri’s throat.

 

He forces himself to smile, and it’s a lot easier when everyone else is just blobs of colour made even blurrier by the bright white flashes of the camera. His harsh inhale of breath is just as easily drowned out by the rapturous applause and cheers from the audience. His palms (only dry thanks to the frigid air within the rink) feel as though lead runs through his veins, and he wills them not to tremble when he accepts the handshake and silver medal from the Grand Prix Final organizer.

 

The victory ceremony is only ten minutes long.

 

It'll be over soon.

 

He dissociates, letting himself be carried away on the notes of the Swiss national anthem. So the camera’s feed on live telecast will catch him looking solemn rather than grimacing when he looks up-

-and sees the Russian flag flying second highest next to the Swiss flag in the middle.

 

 

* * *

Christophe Giacometti, the gold medallist, must’ve noticed his discomfort, and thankfully doesn’t ask for more pictures together after the victory lap, on which Yuuri carries himself on sheer momentum, nearly tripping over the carpet, and tries desperately not to think about how many of the people present in the stands are from his homecrowd. How many of the flowers gathered by the skating attendants were from fans who watched his performance at the Japanese Nationals?

 _Fake_ , the voice in his head whispers. It’s such a soft murmur it shouldn’t be so loud when he can barely hear the announcer’s voice over the noise in the stadium. _Traitor._

_Runaway. Who does he think he’s kidding?_

_He wants to replace Nikiforov? He’s not even Russian._

_Why is someone like him even taking up a space for the representatives? We don’t want to watch someone like him. He’s wasting Feltsman’s time but he can’t even land the quadruple salchow twice in a row why doesn’thejustgobackohwhosaysJapanwantshimback-_

“-Yuri!” Coach Yakov snaps him out of his snowballing panic, and Yuuri dumbly takes the skate guards from him to mount on his blades. Changing out of his costume on autopilot and returning to his coach, they walk through the corridor past the backstage area and exit the building into the frigid Canadian winter. Yuuri keeps his glasses folded around the collar of his Russian Federation jacket so he can smile glassily at the press cameras. He doesn’t even try to keep up with the questions, usually saying ‘Sorry, my translator is not here’ and bowing gets him out of most of these situations.

They bundle into the coach where his red-haired rinkmate and a surly younger boy, one of the rink’s newer arrivals, wait for them, and pull off in the direction of the hotel. Coach Yakov takes one look at his face and sighs. “Yuri.”

Yuuri doesn’t really notice the other boy bristle in his seat. It isn’t a lecture anymore, his coach had already run him over with all the flaws in his free skate (including that failure of a quad salchow) directly in the kiss and cry once the cameras were off them. So the nineteen-year-old slumps his gaze to the onigiri plushie in his lap, the real version of which he has not eaten in several years, and utters out a muted “I know.”

He gets his phone back along with his bottle of sleeping pills when they arrive back at the hotel.

He knows it won’t help, but he watches a recording of the Japanese telecast of his performance. It’s not like his English is good enough to understand the sharp, accented American commentators anyway.

The commentators mentioned it during his program, of course they did. There’s only so much you can say about a skater appearing for only their fourth time in an international competition, after all, and it’s not every day that a skater changes the country they’re representing, even if it is becoming somewhat common in Canada.

They say it in a very neutral, casual way, but Yuuri feels the dig all the same.

* * *

 

This is how it starts: Seventeen-year-old Katsuki Yuuri places first at the Japanese Nationals for the very first time, having finished in nineteenth position the year prior. He had spent the last five years following Viktor’s career using the same fervor most boys his age play school baseball with. The press had already swarmed him for an hour after the competition, and only the skaters and a few coaches were left in the rink.

Yakov Feltsman is in Fukuoka because of the Grand Prix Finals held the previous month in Japan, where he coached Viktor Nikiforov to his second gold. Both skater and coach had not made any public appearances after the post-competition interviews at the rink, so Yuuri was both relieved and shocked to see him. Which begged the question: why is coach Feltsman still in Japan?

“Your step sequences are good.” Yakov Feltsman says gruffly without much greeting, _ohgodisheactuallytalkingtome?_

Perhaps Yuuri stuttered out garbled words of thanks in English, perhaps he didn’t say anything. He doesn’t remember saying much, other than the fact that his mouth turning very dry and words were dying on his tongue.

“Who is your coach?”

Yuuri does remember turning his head to look at the skating club instructor from across the rink. “Not- no really coach,” Yuuri stumbles over his words. “Skating club teacher. Sometimes gives me…tips?”

Yakov, though looking suitably unimpressed, seems satisfied with his response. He nods.

“You could improve a lot. If you skate with no dedicated coach now. I can make you the best.”

Yuuri doesn’t doubt that. This is after all, the man who has trained _Viktor Nikiforov_. What he does doubt, is that this is actually happening, because Yuuri questions the sanity of any universe in which the most famous Russian figure skating coach ever wants to take on Yuuri as a student. Unless Yuuri’s English is actually a lot poorer than he thought, and he is grossly misunderstanding what coach Feltsman is saying.

“But, I only coach figure skaters who represent Russia.”

It takes Yuuri a long time to process this statement and understand all the implications that come with it, but before that he tells coach Feltsman that he will think about it, whatever that means, and packs up his skates. He leaves for Hasetsu in a train, and in a daze, Minako’s hand on his shoulder.

His ballet teacher gushes about his win all the way, but ceases two stops away from their destination.

“Yuuri, are you all right? You’ve been so quiet.” Minako’s face holds so much concern her expression could be termed _motherly_ , although she’s a few years older than Yuuri’s own mother and is still single. “I’d have thought you would be more excited about your win.”

He assures her in the same exhausted manner he accepts katsudon and overjoyed congratulations from his parents; and from Mari in her own understated fashion.

 

 

She finds him in her studio in the hours barely-morning.

 

With dark circles under his eyes and a cup of hot tea steaming under his chin, Yuuri hands her the name card coach Feltsman had given him. He tells her about the exchange they had at the rink.

“Oh, Yuuri.” The reason Minako has always felt somewhat like a third parent to Yuuri, is that she understands how important this is. And how guilty it makes him feel to even consider coach Feltsman’s proposal.

“Athletes represent different countries all the time, you know.” She strokes his sweaty fringe back, “It wouldn’t be that big a deal if you decided to represent Russia.”

Yuuri’s head nods, but his mind thinks on the contrary. Then comes the second big question: how much would legendary coaching even cost?

The answer apparently, is nothing at all, if Yuuri moves to Feltsman’s rink in St. Petersburg and wins medals like he should. Feltsman will take his cut from Yuuri’s sponsorships which the coach seems to fully believe will come Yuuri’s way now that he has won Nationals.

"For free? Hmm, it almost sounds a bit too good to be true. Or it would have, but anyone with eyes would be able to tell you have talent after that performance yesterday Yuuri. Oh, but what about schooling? Seems like he will have that sorted too..."

While Minako helps him iron out the terms over text with coach Feltsman with her much superior command of English, Yuuri starts to hyperventilate.

Yuuri’s always wanted to stand on the same ice as Viktor. Now he might actually become _Viktor’s rinkmate_. The thought is surreal and not as liberating as it should feel. Because why would Russia want Yuuri when it has _Viktor Nikiforov_?

"...-going to be in English-...Online courses-...-university-...-uuri?"

Yuuri does not get his answer until much later. Not before Minako looks up, grabs a paper bag and tells him to blow into it, rubbing soothing circles into his back.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to, silly. I'm sure the JSF can help you get a coach sooner or later if they know a good thing when they see it. They will."

Yuuri breathes in thickly, his throat constricted by the near-attack he'd just had. "I need to buy new skates soon, Minako-sensei."

The look she gives him told him she already knew, but the shabby second-hand pair was the best he could do even though he was skating on national television. There was no way he could ask his parents for the money to hire a professional coach; not when the winter didn't bring as many guests to the onsen as it usually did.

And even without his anxiety speaking for him, Yuuri isn't big-headed enough to believe that he can make it in his senior debut next year with only a quadruple toe loop that he lands four times out of ten. He can't spend more than hour per week at the rink in Fukuoka after he runs errands for the inn, and even if he could he wouldn't burden Suzuki-sensei so. He is already starting to feel like the skating club instructor's charity case.

 

"I know. I actually think this is a very good deal for you. Just make sure you think about this carefully, and talk things through with Hiroko and Toshiya-san, alright?"

 

Dinner provides the lull in the inn needed to break the news to his parents, although admittedly with a lot of encouragement from Minako.

 

As expected, they do not understand.

Skating is not quite a sport to the Katsukis. Yuuri's parents will indulge him shrugging off duties in the family inn to skate, smile and pat his back as he leaves for entire weekends to go for competitions, but it doesn't mean they get his drive to compete with Viktor (his dad still calls him 'the man in your posters'). They don't know the names of the jumps he attempts, and regard the way their son wants to spend half his waking hours on the ice in the same way people pretend to comprehend abstract art.

Much less move to a different country and skate for it.

"He's Viktor's coach." Yuuri says, as though it means anything to them. "He's the best coach in the world."

“If you’re sure you want to, Yuuri.”

The way his mother says it has the exact same inflection she spoke with when Yuuri told her he wanted to skate competitively as a career. Her smile is slightly lonely, and it makes Yuuri bite the inside of his cheek.

“You can always come back when you’re done eh?”

His father had piped up cheerfully, not particularly thrilled that Yuuri wouldn’t be representing Japan but not too bothered by it either, ever cheerful and easygoing. He'd only ever supported local teams in sporting events, even though soccer was all he watched, and more recently figure skating due to Yuuri's participation.

For better or worse, Yuuri doesn’t give much thought to this particular statement for the next two years.

* * *

 Yuuri spends the next day jogging through the town distractedly, every turn of street and blocky flight of stone steps already committed to muscle memory. The biting air of the winter morning stings his lungs but it also means that the shops in Hasetsu remain closed until just before noon.

He pauses in front of one to catch his breath. This is one he has frequented ever since he entered his first Regionals competition.

It took him five visits before he found out that the stretchy cotton spandex was something the tailors stocked only as a favour his mother called in for. They were an old couple, and the kindly lady always helped sew costumes for his performances. Yuuri was never the best at explaining his thoughts, and so the vision for his Lohengrin costume this season came out a little...tacky, to be honest.

He is still incredibly lucky he has their support. Yuuri has no idea how he'll ever pay the gesture back.

'You'll become a great skater someday, and then everyone will come to Hasetsu just to see you, right?' The elderly tailor had joked to him a few months ago.

Yuuri turns and sprints away before any of the neighbours see him. (Just in case they open the shop early.)

 

 

It wasn't a choice, really.

Yuuri has been skating since he was seven. But it was just a hobby many of the kids in Hasetsu took to, the way some in the southern prefectures spend their summers in streams.

Somewhere along the line after he saw Viktor skate for the first time, the desire to compete on the ice solidified in Yuuri. Ambition burned at his heels, the sensation of it numbing him to all the bruises and scrapes earned from falling on the ice or braking just a little too hard during steps. That hope shined itself into his daydreams even as he entertained darker thoughts at night.

He might never go further than regional competitions, would never even come closer than an audience stand away from Viktor Nikiforov.

Small-time skaters like Yuuri can go their entire nonexistent careers undiscovered, never getting a chance to fully develop under experienced hands.

And now a world-famous coach is offering to take Yuuri on for no initial cost.

It is the opportunity of a lifetime. And to think, he even gets to _meet and train alongside Viktor._

Yuuko shares the same excitement but none of the hesitation. “What?! Yuuri that’s amazing! I knew you could do it, Mr-National-champion!” She practically bounces on her skates. "Ah, I'm so jealous! What I wouldn't give to skate with Viktor..."

“I haven’t said yes yet.” He reminds her. The coach might always change his mind, especially since it’s been forty-six hours since he made the offer. Forty-seven, now.

“But you know you _shouuuuuld_.”  Yuuko whines,  grabbing at his hands while he’s at the barrier so he can’t skate away from her gushing.

“Isn’t it a dream come true for you?” Nishigori asks while he brings out the zamboni to clean the ice for a final time before they close the rink.

It should have been a dream come true for Yuuri.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I ended it there at a bit of a weird place because I didn't want to make this chapter too long. Please let me know what you think, or if you spotted any errors or gaping plot holes. Besides the obvious one that I've completely deleted Georgi from this universe. Feel free to make any suggestions too. (Actually please do I'm quite sure what other people come up with will help me determine how I end this lol)
> 
> Yuuri's inferiority complex makes him think he's still a small-time skater even though he just won the Nationals, and will continue to warp the narrative. He would actually get local sponsorship and coaching offers if he'd waited a week longer lol Japan takes their figure skating _really_ seriously.
> 
> In the next chapter: Why Yakov was still in Fukuoka a month after the GPF, Yuuri's awful interim 18th year, Viktor makes an appearance, and Mila just being an all-around sweetheart. Oh, Minami shows up. He does not make Yuuri feel better.


End file.
